The little things
by Backgroundnoise
Summary: Because she had discovered one insomnia night, that Michael Scofield was the only thing that was keeping her from fall down and break…
1. Bilberrie pie

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break, Sara, Kellerman, Lincoln or Michael, sad, but I have to live with that.

Rating: PG-15

Pairing: Michael/Sara.

Summary: Kellerman, Lincoln, Michael and Sara are together and trying to run away from themselves.

Dedicated to Laura, who makes this possible.

I feel lucky of have known you.

Spoilers until 2x13, after that, just my imagination

Title: The little things.

Chapter title: Bilberrie pie

By Lylou

Insults, comments or reviews are always welcome.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

_-_ _Don't make me lie to you..._

- - - - - - - - - - - -

-"What are you thinking about...?"

Michael's voice sounded low and sleepy in the room full of shadows, and after a few seconds, he thought that maybe he hadn't even said it audibly.

-"...Nothing."

When she finally answered, her voice was just a whisper; close to him in the darkness, half-muffled by the sound of the hot storm outside, with the warm rain beating the blinds of the motel room.

Again.

They were close to leaving Texas behind. During the day, the desert sun fell mercilessly over them and over their worn-out Ford.

But at night, the temperature declined sharply. It was then that she was glad for the feeling of warmth that his half-naked body under the blankets brought; or the now familiar scent of his skin next to hers in the bed.

It was still something that she was becoming accustomed to, but she liked breathing in the dark and feeling that all the air in the room smelled like Michael Scoffield...

But even with all of that, she didn't say anything else, just "_Nothing"_.

It wasn't his damn business what she was thinking about.

Or maybe she didn't say the truth because she was thinking about him again.

About them.

Sara heard Michael sigh with frustration in the darkness, and couldn't help but think that maybe she had gone too far again.

And it was almost funny, because she had gone _too far_ at least two times that night.

And the night before, and the previous...

It was easy to go too far, and get lost under the blankets in their situation.

Sara could still feel his urgent kisses upon her skin. It was as if he hadn't kissed her ever before. And his hot whispers at her ear, his low and guilty words at midnight...

It was like they could say any painful thing to each other in the daytime.

They could keep angry silences during those hours or exchange words full of hints and innuendoes.

They could keep with the lost glances outside the car window car, looking out at the landscape that disappeared fast under the wheels of their car or they could even pretend like the taste of betrayal in their mouth was something that they had never tasted before.

But the hardest and most frustrating thing of all, was that none of that seemed to matter.

None of it.

Because at nights, when the sun is hiding and they are finally out of the car, they share a dark motel room, a bed, more lies, desperate kisses, guilty sex and mutual regrets.

It was a dangerous and self-destructive way of life, and of love; but Sara knew that she always had been _dangerous _and _self-destructive._

And Michael didn't seem awfully different.

She blinked in the darkness of the room, wishing in vain that that could distance herself from what they had become.

But Sara knew that she didn't get it because her voice still sounded sad and distant when she talked:

-"It is already time to go?"

Michael leaned slowly over in bed and looked at the green numbers illuminated on the alarm clock on the small night-table:

-"Not yet."

-"Michael... What is it that you miss more?"

Sara felt her voice sliding over the dark walls of that room as if she was just talking out loud. But she sensed him lying again in the bed, in silence and thinking about an answer.

An answer between what he wanted to say now, and what she wanted to hear:

-"I miss being innocent."

-"... I think we all miss the same thing Michael."

Sara heard her own voice a bit more distant and accusing than what she had wanted.

The truth was that she was tired of it all.

Tired of being mad at him, of being mad at herself...

Tired of being in a car with three men during the most part of the day; tired of having left behind hundreds of kilometers of dusty and dead roads.

She was tired of having left behind her old life and everything that she thought she once knew...

-"I miss not knowing what I was capable of... "

This time, his voice surprised her. It was low and a bit concerned, like as if he was finally able to find the words for something that he had spent years trying to say.

Sara wanted to console him.

It would have been easy…his body was just a few centimeters from hers. If she stretched her arm a bit she could touch his hand which was slightly tanned by the sun.

She could have held him and lay down on his chest until the daybreak Or passed her fingers over the tattoos on his skin and asked him in a whisper where exactly was_ their_ infirmary in that labyrinth of ink.

Or she could have imagined about how it could be in their new life... or about letting all the pain and the betrayal finally go.

But she didn't.

Because the pain and the betrayal, were the only things that could keep all of them alive now.

Both: Literally, and figuratively.

-"And you... What is it you miss most Sara?"

His voice sounded almost shy, and she knew that it wasn't just a simple question.

-"I miss... The little things."

-"We never have had time for _the little things_ Sara."

-"...Maybe that's why I miss them."

Sara listened to him chuckling weakly next to her in the bed:

-"What?"

-"You miss the only thing that I can't give you Sara..."

She though about it for a second.

It was true.

Michael was capable of many things, but she doubted that he could turn back time.

-"...But maybe, after all this Sara…after the run, in a new life... "

-"In a new life Michael, you would still be you, and I still would be me…But with a nice suntan"

-"...That's not necessarily true..."

Sara felt him turning around in the bed and looking at her through the darkness, and she sensed something different in his voice…maybe a thin flash of hope.

As she felt his hand playing distractedly with her hair spread over the pillow, Sara couldn't help but think again about his desperate kisses at darkness even after a whole day of silence and painful looks between them. Or about his warm words against her ear...

And he knew it.

Somehow, Michael figured out what she was thinking about.

He always did that because… he was Michael.

And sometimes she couldn't help but ask herself if really, during less than three months together, if that man really knew her.

Sara could feel it in his voice when he continued whispering in the darkness, like he used to do, low and only to her:

-"... Because now we can go wherever you want Sara.

If you don't want a suntan... we can go to some place colder..."

She smiled weakly in the dark, and her voice sounded almost shy when she asked:

-"Would you do that Michael?

...Would you change your plans for me?"

Michael left his playful tone and his voice sounded a bit frustrated and more serious:

-"...I have done it before Sara..."

She felt the silence between them growing painfully in that half-dark room again, but as Sara was going to say something, she heard anxious knocks at the door.

Immediately Michael sprang from bed and walked to the door.

He leaned on the dark wall, next to the door and looked over at her in silence for a few seconds before to asked through the door:

-"Who is it?"

-"Its me... "

Michael sighed, frustrated, and his voice sounded angry compared to how he had been talking to her a minute ago:

-"What do you want?"

-"We are late... It's time to go."

But this last time, the voice at the other side of the door sounded a bit weaker.

Michael's voice, though, was still cold and low when he asked:

-"Where is Lincoln?"

-"He is out already."

Sara rose from bed, and walked to the small bathroom.

But before she could lock herself in, Michael had the chance to see her angry look and her half-naked body through the shadows of the room. She shut the door with a loud slam.

And he knew that another day of silence and pain had begun for them.

Michael then opened the motel door with a look of disgust on his face, and spoke cold and low:

-"Where is Lincoln?"

The man at the other side of the door looked inside the dark bedroom for a few seconds before he answered:

-"We were needing gas, so he went to fill the tape."

-"And you are here because...?"

Michael's voice sounded even more dark and disagreeable than what he had wanted, and he felt a sudden stab of bitter guilt on the inside. But then he thought again about Sara all mad and locked in the bathroom...

-"... Because we are a team now Michael."

-"... Sure."

-"Where is Sara?"

Michael gave him a fulminating look and gave no indication of answering him, but the man at the other side of the door continued:

-"Is she mad at you again Michael?"

-"Don't go there."

But he didn't seem to listen to Michael's cold tone, because he continued talking, and when he looked at his brown eyes, Michael could see something like a small victory in them.

-"You know Michael... I'm a bit worried for her.

She hardly eats lately... And I know her Michael, I know that she is always hungry. She loves Bilberrie pie...You know that about her?"

Michael ignored his playful tone and tried to act as if it did not bother him not to know what the man was talking about.

But it did matter.

It was something that Kellerman was used to doing.

Saying things about Sara…about the Sara that Michael didn't know; about the time and the small secrets that they shared in her apartment on the sofa, while Michael was too busy leaving her behind.

Paul had watched Sara during days, trying to reach her over Michael, and he had known more little and personal things about her than him.

To Michael, it mattered.

Because, discovering that there were things about her that Kellerman knew that he didn't, was almost worse than all her silence.

Like the damn Bilberrie pie thing...

Michael didn't know it and Sara had never told him. But it was just the kind of thing that people who sleep together should know...

Little things, like her favourite movie, the song that could make her cry, the first name of her mother... The little things.

"_I miss the little things"_

That man before him now, the man that could make that Sara slam the bathroom door, knew more things about her than he did.

And when Michael spoke again, his voice sounded cold and emotionless, as if he wasn't talking about it at all.

-"You're worried about Sara...That's funny, because I can still remember that she told me how you tortured her."

Kellerman looked at the floor, and with the orange light of dawn in that empty corridor, Michael could see the dark marks on his neck.

The dark marks where he had struggled him.

And just two days earlier he surely would have killed Kellerman if Lincoln had not stopped him.

-"I told you Michael...

It was just... business."

Kellerman's voice sounded distant, and there was something more that Michael could not recognise.

Maybe it was even a thin flash of regret...

But Michael didn't really care about it, because he spoke coldly again, looking at Kellerman's eyes and with a clear tone of threat in his voice:

-"Not for me."

Kellerman looked at the floor, thinking about Michael's last sentence, before speaking again, and for one moment, Michael heard something new and real in his voice:

-"I'll still worry about her."

-"She is not your business Paul…Not anymore."

-"That's not true Michael."

Kellerman got close to him and spoke surely in that half-illuminated corridor:

-"Ill worry, because she is our girl Michael."

Michael smiled without a bit of humor, and his voice sounded dark and cold when he whispered, slow and close to him:

-"There is no _our_ in this Paul.

You should never forget that."

- - - - - - - - - - -

To be continued...

I'm a feedback monster.


	2. Chinese food

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break, Sara, Kellerman, Lincoln or Michael, sad, but I have to live with that.

Rating: PG-15

Paring Michael/Sara.

Summary: Kellerman, Lincoln, Michael and Sara are together and trying to run away of themselves.

Dedicated to Laura, who makes this possible.

I feel lucky of have known you.

Spoilers until 2x13, after that, just my imagination.

Title: The little things.

Chapter title: Chinese food.

By Lylou

Insults, comments or reviews are always welcome.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"_- …You face your fear, you open that door and there's a hundred more doors behind it. And the monsters that are hiding behind them are all real."_

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The midday sun was reflecting off the asphalt and making the hot dusty road appear as a black and shiny ocean.

The warm desert wind was slipping through the opened car window and messing up Sara's short hair.

The four were going back to Chicago, where all of them had run away from less than a week ago.

And it was funny… and painfully ironic.

All of them had left Chicago to save their lives, and now, they were forced to come back to the beginning to get their lives back...

Sara would have laughed if she had still been able.

She closed her eyes slowly and leaned back into the seat. All those hours travelling could tire anybody out, and then there were her nights...

She was not resting enough either.

Lincoln was driving fine for once. She would never have said it, but the way that man used to drive made her dizzy.

He had driven almost all the time, except the first day that they met.

That had been four days ago.

That day Michael had driven…and he had been so mad that no one could make him stop.

Sara still remembered his hands, pressing and squeezing the wheel's skin, and his knuckles turning white from the anger.

Not one of them dared that day to say to Michael that he would kill all of them if he kept on driving that way.

No one, especially him…Lance, Kellerman or whatever his damn name was.

The man that had lied to her, tortured her and tried to murder her.

The same man that was now sitting in the co-pilot seat.

Sara still had her eyes closed, but she had seen the dark marks in the back of his neck that same morning.

She remembered Michael pushing him hard against the wall and nearly strangling him

Michael.

Even now, with her eyes closed, Sara could feel his greenish look sliding over her in the back seat of that car.

Three months ago, she hadn't even known Michael, and now he was her only family.

Him, and his sad, and always silent, brother.

These men were taking care of her, protecting her… And at least one of them would kill for her.

Sara had seen it like a flash across Michael's eyes when he angrily pushed Kellerman against the motel wall.

Then, Sara had known for the first time, that this man she hadn't even known three months ago, would do anything for her.

-"Are you okay?"

Michael's low voice near her could take Sara from the dizziness and make her swoon.

-"No... I'm tired."

-"... I know, just hold on a few days more Sara...

We are so close now... "

Sara had not opened her eyes yet, but even so, she felt Michael's warm gaze. It was the same way he had looked at her since the first day in that far away infirmary, as if there wasn't anyone else in the car.

Or in the whole world.

It was just the way in which Michael Scoffield was used to doing things…he could ignore her for a whole day with silence and lies or whisper in her ear words that could make her think that he had never spoken them to another woman before. That he never had said another's name at midnight besides hers.

-"Stop the car Linc."

Sara opened her eyes then. Michael was still looking at her when he spoke but his voice had changed and wasn't like just a few seconds ago, when he was speaking only to her.

Lincoln snorted and stopped the car suddenly

A cloud of dust rose from the road and shone under the sun for a few seconds.

Sara opened the door and left the car. The hot of the sun took just a moment to hit her, as she leaned on the car and breathed, her lungs filling up with warm desert air:

-"Feeling better?"

For just a few seconds she was sure that it had been Michael's concerned voice behind her. But it wasn't.

It was Kellerman, speaking softly under the killing sun.

Kellerman.

She wasn't even accustomed to hearing that name…

Sara looked at him and answered coldly:

-"That is not your business."

He kept quiet, but Sara could feel his eyes smiling softly under the dark sunglasses.

He came a step closer and spoke again, almost whispering. As he did, Sara thought about that day when they had sat on her sofa, watching a romantic comedy and eating Chinese food …. She had never done something that normal or simple with Michael:

-"Are you angrier with me…

Or with him?"

Kellerman pointed vaguely to where Michael was talking with Lincoln.

Sara was a bit surprised, of all the possible things; she never thought that Kellerman would say that.

It was a very difficult question to even think about.

Can you be angry with someone you hate?

Because hate and anger were very different things.

Sara looked over at Michael.

As she did, he made a sign to Lincoln and then stopped talking to look silently in her direction.

It was then that Sara saw something different in his face half-hidden under the sunglasses.

There was the concern that he always had on his face when she was near Kellerman, but she also saw something new.

Jealousy.

For a few seconds the idea danced in her mind: "Could Michael Scoffield be a jealous man?"

During all the time that he had been in Fox River, she could have dated and slept with all the men that she would have wanted, and he would have had to live with that… Had she seen a flash of jealousy in Michael's eyes that morning in the infirmary, when he saw the bouquet of flowers upon her desk?

"_Do we have an admirer?" _

Maybe there had been more in those words than she thought.

-"You can't be mad for the rest of your life Sara…"

She listened to Kellerman's low words near her, and she wasn't even sure if she had really heard it.

Michael walked back towards them and took Sara's hand and pulled her slowly towards him and further away from him…away from Kellerman.

And for the very first time, he didn't say anything to Kellerman; Michael just looked at him in silence.

And Sara couldn't help but wonder if that meant something more.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The wipers were working at full speed, brushing the dark rain that was falling now.

They had left the desert behind finally, and the dust from the roads had given way to little and cold drops.

Sara was sleeping in the back seat of the Ford and the three men in the car had spent more than two hours in silence.

The only noise was the metallic sound of the tears against the car and the wipers.

-"We should stop"

-"I'm afraid you are not the one in charge here buddy"

Kellerman sighed, frustrated when he heard Lincoln's comment and his voice sounded serious when he spoke again:

-"When the lady is asleep, we stop…"

-"Stop in at the next motel Linc."

-"Are you sure Michael?

-"…Yes."

Michael looked at Sara sleeping next to him and he could feel Kellerman's eyes fixed on him in the rear-view mirror, but he ignored him.

Then lightning illuminated the car's cabin and Michael saw all the small cuts and wounds on Sara's arms.

"I_ threw myself off the second floor to get away from him__"_

The same "him" that was now looking at Michael through the rear-view mirror.

-"How do you think all this is going to end Michael?

Did you really think that she would forgive you, that you two could live happily ever after in some warm and underdeveloped country?…Do you really think that is going to happen?"

Michael pursed his lips and looked through the window out into the dark.

-"When all this is over Paul…you and I are going to have a little talk."

Michael's voice sounded low and bitter.

-"Sure… I'm impatient."

Kellerman's voice was ironic and defiant, but he shut up when they saw the unmistakable red and blue glare from a police car lights.

Lincoln pressed on the wheel angrily and spoke nervously:

-"What do you want me to do Michael?"

Michael looked outside; it had been completely dark and now the night was all bathed with red and blue light.

-"It is approaching Michael… "

-"… I know. Stop the car Linc."

Lincoln looked at the light in the rear-view mirror.

-"Are you sure bro?"

-"Yes… Stop the car."

Lincoln pulled the car slowly to the roadside and the police car stood up right behind them. Michael could see a still sleeping Sara, bathed with the revolving lights.

The officer walked up to the car and stopped next to Lincoln's side window a second before he rolled it down:

-"Good evening."

-"Good evening officer…

Did I do something wrong?"

Lincoln's voice sounded perfectly normal, but Michael knew that he was nervous…

Lincoln never had been able to keep calm under pressure.

-"Afraid so Sir…

Your back taillight is out "

With the beam of the policeman's flashlight, Michael saw the worried look on his brother's face. The read and blue illuminated rain was falling more furiously now.

-"… I'm afraid I'll have to fine you.

… Give me your drivers license please."

Then all the air escaped from Lincoln's lungs.

-"… Officer… "

Kellerman s voice sounded kind and false, as usual:

-"… Maybe it won't be necessary; it is just a taillight…

Can we change it and continue?

The policeman stood a few seconds under the rain:

-"… Okay."

-"Thank you officer."

Kellerman's voice sounded false again but the policeman moved away from Lincoln's window as he started to roll it up.

But then, the policeman looked at the back seat and saw Sara, still sleeping and he tracked her with his flashlight's white streak and his face changed suddenly.

And Michael knew why.

Maybe with all the darkness and under the rain the cop had not recognised Lincoln or himself… But he had seen all the cuts and small wounds on Sara's arms as well as the dark marks around her wrists where Kellerman had tied her up…

And Michael knew that the cop hadn't seen the most wanted men in America. He had seen an _unconscious_ woman, hurt and with rope burns, in a car at midnight travelling with three men that didn't want to give their license.

The policemen pulled his gun and aimed at them.

-"Out of the car… Now"

-"… It is not what you are thinking officer"

Michael's voice sounded clear and loud, but he knew that it would not matter what he said.

-"I won't repeat it…

Get out!"

Sara woke up with the yells and opened her eyes; she appeared half-surprised and half-scared.

Kellerman and Lincoln came out of the car slowly, and Michael opened his door and came out too.

The rain was colder than he had thought, and the only lights around were the blue and red revolving lights from the police car.

-"… Michael…"

He heard Sara's scared voice behind him, still in the car:

-"It's okay."

But Michael looked at Kellerman too, because he still had a gun.

-"… I'm afraid there is a mistake here officer… "

Sara opened her side door and came out from the car.

-"Get back in the car please."

Sara sent a worried look in Michael's direction.

The dark rain was soaking all of them now, but even through that, she could see his nervous glance.

Michael knew that she wouldn't just sit down in the car again and be quiet.

And apparently, Kellerman knew it too, because his voice rose above the metallic noise of the drops hitting the cars:

-"Officer… I know how it looks… but it is not like that…

We haven't touched her, Sir."

And then, Sara couldn't help but think that it was almost funny, because Paul had done something more than "touch" her.

-"I don't care… Turn around now.

Put your hands up on the car…the three of you."

Then Sara approached the policeman and spoke:

-"… It is okay officer…

I just had a small accident at home."

The policeman keep quiet and looked at Sara's half hidden wrists:

-"You have tie marks lady…. That was no accident."

Sara pressed her lips a bit and Michael could see her frustrated and scared glance.

She then stepped up and got in front of them, between her travelling companions and the cop.

Looking to the policeman, she spoke again, in the scared tone that Michael had heard only once…the far and hot morning of the riot:

-"… I'm fine… Please."

Sara was pleading now.

-"I can't miss."

The policeman looked at her and then spoke again

And this time, all of them realised the nervous tone of the cop's voice:

-"Now get out of the way "

-"… No."

For a few seconds, the only thing they heard was the rain falling angrily…but then, the cop turned and targeted Sara.

She saw the gun shining under the red and blue lights taking aim right at her.

And the rest happened very fast.

Sara felt Kellerman arms around her body, grabbing her strongly and attaching her back to his chest.

She heard Michael screaming her name behind her.

Sara felt the cold rain falling furiously and soaking her hair and her body; like she had never before felt the rain upon her…

But most of all, she felt the chill contact of Kellerman's gun against her temple.

And she thought for the second time in the same day, about that evening, just weeks ago, when that same man with the gun on her temple, was sitting on her sofa, eating Chinese food with her… and she remembered again that she had never eaten Chinese food with Michael.

That, and many other thoughts and memories about her and Michael tore along her mind as she listened to Kellerman's voice rise above the rains noise:

-"Put the gun on the ground and everything will be okay officer…

Now!"

The policeman pressed his lips in a worried look and spoke, with an unconvincing tone in his voice:

-"No.

Let the lady go, and we'll see."

Kellerman smiled softly with his face soaked by the rain, and when he spoke his voice was quiet and calm:

-"If you don't drop the gun now… I'll spread her beautiful face all over this road."

To be continued….

Comments are so loved.


	3. Faith

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break; I don't even own Wentworth Miller… Sad but true.

Rating: PG-15

Paring Michael/Sara.

Summary: And even one night, Michael had followed her to a bar…

Note: Surely this is the most personal story that I have ever wrote… And one of the most long, so don't hate me.

Dedicated to my patient Beta, who makes this possible.

I feel lucky of have known you.

Spoilers until 2x16, after that, just my sick imagination.

Title: The little things.

Chapter title: Faith.

By Lylou

Insults, comments or reviews are always welcome.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_-"…Why are you so cynical?"_

_-"Well, Michael, I believe there's cynicism and then there's realism."  
-"Then there's optimism. Hope._

_Faith…"_

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sara felt the cold, dark rain moistening her hair…and Kellerman's breath behind her ear.

The policeman was still aiming his gun at them in silence, and was apparently trying to think of the right words that would persuade some normal nut or pervert…

But not Paul Kellerman.

That man was an ambiguous mystery to her, but Sara was sure that nothing the cop said, would persuade Kellerman to let her go.

She knew him enough to know that…

He was cold, distant, and … efficient.

His arms were holding her tightly and every time that she squirmed and tried to loosen up, he was tightening against her more, until she began to feel the moisture of his soaking clothes against her body and under her own clothes.

-"Let her go!"

Sara heard Michael's scared and angry tone somewhere behind her under the dark rain.

-"I'm counting cop…

One… "

The policeman's face changed most of all, as Kellerman stroked the gun without separating it from Sara's temple.

-"… Two…"

His tone didn't change even just a bit… it continued being nice and cold.

-"… Let her go!"

Michael's voice sounded more desperate this time, and Sara realised that she never had heard Michael shout like that before.

She could feel the fear growing up rapidly inside him.

And the love, not letting him think clearly. And it was a bit scary, because she couldn't help but think again of all the things about Michael Scofield that she didn't know yet …

Or about the many things that he was willing to do for her.

And then Sara thought that she wanted to look at him under the dark rain and ask: "How could this have happened to us?"

How could something like love have wounded them that much?

Just love… burning painfully along with everything else inside them.

-"… Okay Sir...

I'll drop the gun, but let the lady go."

Kellerman smiled softly under the rain and the officer dropped his gun onto the dark and soppy asphalt.

Maybe it was just the adrenaline running through her body, but Sara could have sworn that she could feel how Kellerman released the air in his lungs.

Nervous…as if he was afraid to think about what he would have had to do when arriving at the count of "three".

-"Now push it with your foot … Slowly please."

Lincoln grabbed the gun from the flooded ground.

The dark rain was still falling and soaking all of them, but she wasn't feeling it anymore.

She was too cold and the adrenaline had raced through her muscles, like a warm and familiar poison.

But even with that, Sara felt a familiar touch on her hand.

It was Michael, pulling for her slowly, until she felt Kellerman's arms loosening up and slowly letting go…

-"… Come here… "

Michael's low voice sounded closer and more intimate than she had remembered lately.

It sounded as if it was the first time in years that Michael had saw her.

He didn't even look at Kellerman.

Michael just passed his hand over some wet locks of hair on her forehead to part them, all without taking his eyes from her.

It was as if, suddenly, all the lies and the hot silences between them didn't exist.

Sara saw Kellerman handcuffing the policeman to the handle and realised it under Lincoln's watchful eye.

After that, all of them got silently into the car.

Lincoln started the engine, and they travelled several miles more under the dark rain. They moved in silence with the only sound coming from the wipers of the car. Finally they saw the lights of a motel.

But this time, Sara didn't fall asleep.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sara was sitting on the small and dark wooden porch.

She was still wet and hadn't taken her soaking clothes off yet.

Sara had just grabbed a blanket from the motel room, and gone out to sit down in the darkness of the small wooden porch, with her wet hair dripping upon the blanket.

The only things that she could hear were the dark rain falling, and Michael and Kellerman voices inside of the motel floating to her like soft murmurs.

They were somewhere between Mexico and Chicago now.

Chicago.

Seems that nothing else mattered anymore.

As if the only thing that remained to do was for all of them to get back to the city in which they had all started.

Sara closed her eyes for a few seconds in the darkness.

She was trying to think how they had come to that… how her life could have changed so much in less than a month.

"_Your life was a mess before too… Nothing has changed Sara." _

That voice hummed in her mind… But it wasn't all true.

Actually, her life _had_ changed.

Because she was with them now…

With _him_.

And then Sara realised how much she missed Michael.

He was just a few steps and a wall away from her, but she missed _him _so much…

Sara missed the mornings at Fox River, when she was in her infirmary, waiting, for him to come for his daily injection, just to hear his voice.

She missed how she used to look over her shoulder to see if there was any C.O's looking at them while they were speaking softly about the world outside those walls…

Or the way that she always waited, listening for him to say her name, and when he did, it was as if it were just them in that horrible, cold place…

But most of all, she missed not being afraid.

While he was in Fox River, she was safe.

Safe from having to make a decision about them…safe from having to put a name to what they were…

To have to put a name to all the hot looks and soft words between them…

Safe from thinking about that damn "_What if he is out someday_"

Because now he was out, and she wasn't safe from any of that anymore.

But this situation, dark and complicated, was their new reality.

A painful and hot reality.

She closed her eyes in the darkness of the porch, thinking again about Kellerman's arms around her, about his gun against her temple…and about the way in which Michael had screamed at him before.

She opened her eyes slowly and wrapped herself up in the blanket.

In moments like those, with a gun in her temple, or running from some local cop that had recognised Lincoln, she always thought again about "that" conversation that Michael and she had in a train bathroom:

"_You can get everything back"_

How the hell could she get _something_ back?

How would she get something back after having the gun of a man that tortured her against her temple?

Or… after having listened to Michael scream at him in _that _way?

Maybe the damned truth was that they couldn't do normal and the _little things_ anymore. Maybe she was doomed to love that way of life.

Maybe... After all… she had found a new and more addictive drug in Michael Scofield.

-"Can I sit with you?"

Lincoln's voice behind her pulled Sara from her thoughts.

-"… Sure…But I'm not really talkative tonight."

-"It's okay… I'm not really talkative this month"

Something similar to a very soft smile crossed her face, and then Lincoln's voice broke the sound of the rain again:

-"You should take off your clothes"

Sara looked at him a bit confused, but Lincoln smiled softly in the darkness and talked again:

-"I mean… Change out of your wet clothes."

Sara smiled this time, and she realised that perhaps it was the first time that day that she had smiled.

Her tone was still cheerful when she spoke:

-"… Yes, but I'm too tired."

-"Then why don't you go to bed?"

Sara kept quiet for a few seconds, thinking about what Lincoln had just said.

She wasn't going to bed yet because Michael was still too busy in the other room arguing with Kellerman.

And she was afraid of admitting it, or of even thinking about it, because it was something that she hadn't even known just a week ago…But now Sara knew that she didn't like to sleep without Michael in the bed.

It was a scary and powerful thought… but the truth was that the world seemed a bit less lonely with Michael Scofield sleeping next to her.

-"I don't like to sleep alone…"

And then Sara thought that maybe it wasn't a lie after all.

-"Well… I could sleep with you if you want…but then Michael and our new friend would have to share a room… And the bastard snores."

Sara smiled in the half dark of the wooden porch, but her voice sounded a bit distant when she spoke again, without looking at Lincoln:

-"Maybe we _should_ leave Michael to sleep with him… "

Sara regretted it the second she said it.

She didn't want Michael to sleep with anyone else, but Lincoln's voice broke the sound of the rain:

-"He didn't hurt you…did he?"

She smiled sadly and looked at him through the darkness before asking:

-"Who…? Kellerman… Or your brother?"

Lincoln looked at her in silence for a few seconds, until he finally spoke again:

-"This is just temporary Sara…

When all this finishes, you wont have to see Kellerman again… And surely Michael will kill him before all this is over…"

He smiled softly in the dark.

-"…If it ends."

Sara's voice sounded sad and low, as if she was just saying it for herself. Almost like they were sorrow words that she had kept inside for a long time.

-"It will Sara… And then you and Michael can live in some big house on a desert beach…with four or five children that have your eyes…"

Sara smiled weakly, trying to believe in Lincoln's words, even if it was just for a second.

Because under these certain circumstances, she could be satisfied with that, with just a moment of thinking how her life could turn to that…

When she spoke again her voice sounded sleepy and tired:

-"… Maybe you are right…"

-"About the sleeping together thing?"

Sara smiled in the darkness of the porch and talked again:

-"No… about the _going_ to bed thing."

Sara rose from the porch with her blanket and walked to the door. But, before she opened it, she turned to look at Lincoln:

-"Good night."

-"…Good night Sara."

She opened the door, but when she was about to leave the porch, Lincoln's low voice made her turn:

-"I'm glad you are here."

She smiled a bit surprised, mostly because Lincoln, wasn't the kind of man that "was glad" about anything.

She looked at him through the darkness again, and then closed the door behind her.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

-"I wasn't going to shoot her… So stop the drama."

Michael sighed frustrated, his voice sounded angry and cold every time he spoke:

-"I don't know what you really want Paul…But I don't trust you, and the fact that you put a gun against her temple doesn't help."

Kellerman was seated on the bed.

Slowly and tiredly he sat looking through the dark outside the window with that attentive look that never seems to leave his face. His voice sounded distant when he spoke, like he was just speaking out loud:

-"I was just doing what I had to…we had to get free from the cop…and we did..."

He looked left out of the window for a second and then settled on Michael:

-"I always do what is necessary Michael."

Michael closed his eyes slowly. He was tired of all this.

Of fighting with him, with her, with himself…

He was tired of impersonal and repetitive motel rooms like this.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe if it wasn't for Kellerman, all of them would now be in some dusty country jail … but she was too much price to pay for freedom…Sara wasn't something which he could not do without anymore.

-"…That doesn't change what you did before…If she…"

-"But she is fine…ok... So stop treating her as if she was something fragile Michael.

She is probably the most toughest of all of us."

Then Michael half-closed his eyes and looked at him coldly. His voice sounded dark and rough when he spoke, and he didn't even try to hide it because Michael was really interested in Kellerman's answer:

-"Why do you say that?"

Kellerman looked at him and smiled softly before he spoke. Michael knew that he wasn't going to like his answer:

-"Because I know her.

I spend a lot of time watching her Michael, studying her, her customs, and her likes… What she wants from life… Or from love…

Just like you did Michael."

-"… That is not true."

But Michael's voice sounded soft and far away, as if he was just trying to convince himself.

The painful truth was that he really had done that.

And now nothing would change that fact ever.

Michael had followed her, had stolen her mail to know more about her, he had searched places and articles about her personal life…everywhere… trying to know every little detail about her… He couldn't risk not knowing.

Michael couldn't go to Fox River without knowing all _the little things_ about her.

And even one night, Michael had followed Sara to a bar, and observed her during all the time that she spent sitting in a stool, with the ice cubes melting slowly in her Pepsi.

He observed from a distance, all the men near her and those that spoke with her…trying to detect and understand what she liked in a man.

That night Michael learnt two things:

First of all…she was one of the most beautiful women that he had ever seen.

And second…lying to her was going to be much more difficult now.

Much more than before he had seen her.

But now he imagined Kellerman doing the same thing…prying in her life as he had done…studying Sara's habits… Or looking at her during hours while she was alone in some bar, and maybe thinking about his _betrayal._

Michael's voice sounded only half-sure:

-"… It is not the same thing…

It is not even close."

Kellerman smiled softly to himself before speaking:

-"… Of course is it Michael. Your present situation doesn't change what you did to her before."

-"…That is not true."

-"Yes Michael, it is the truth even if that tortures you now.

You just used her; you did what you had to do to save your brother's life.

Just like me."

Michael closed his eyes and sighed softly before beginning to talk again:

-"I never tried to kill her Paul."

-"But you'd do it if you had to …"

Kellerman's voice sounded a bit distant, but there was still a small tone of victory in it. Maybe it was because he had seen a dark doubt in Michael's eyes.

-"No… I would never hurt Sara."

-"… She looks really hurt to me Michael"

Michael neared him and spoke low but clear; his voice sounded angry, frustrated and a million little other things:

-"Soon Paul, when all of this is over, we will never have to see you again… That is all that matters."

Michael looked at him in cold silence for a few seconds and all the dark rain outside seemed to stop for a while.

Then Michael walked to the door and opened it, but Kellerman's voice at his back stopped him:

-"Do you really believe that Michael? Do you really think that she will forgive you someday?"

Michael let go of the handle and turned to look at him:

-"Why do you ask that?"

Michael's voice sounded colder and sharper than usual… because he was a bit afraid of his answer.

But Kellerman didn't smile when he spoke, and just for a second, his voice didn't seem that kind and false voice that Michael had come to know:

-"Because then maybe she could forgive me too."

Of all the possible answers, Michael never thought that he would hear that…. Not from Paul Kellerman.

-"That is not going to happen Paul.

Never."

-"Michael… You might be a genius, but you don't know anything about people."

Michael smiled bitterly and spoke, his voice sounding ironic and cold:

-"I have learned some things about people lately Paul… But thanks."

This time Kellerman smiled without a trace of humour in his face and spoke:

-"… Maybe, but in the end, it is not going to make a difference Michael… We all are dead.

You, I, your brother… And Sara.

It is just a matter of time."

Michael moved nearer to him and spoke low, and Kellerman noticed something different in his voice this time, something that he hadn't heard ever before.

-"You take care of yourself… And I will take care of them."

After that, Michael left the room, leaving Kellerman looking out at the storm through the dark window.

Michael took several steps in the half-illuminated corridor and almost collided with Lincoln, who was about to open the room door.

-"…Hey… is everything fine?"

Michael didn't answer; he just looked to the empty porch and asked:

-"Where's Sara?

Lincoln talked softly, because he knew that nothing that he could say would change his brother's mood:

-"She's gone to bed"

Michael put his hands on his waist with a confused look in his face:

-"…Alone?"

-"… Yep. Are you sure you are all right Michael?"

Michael looked at his brother for the first time.

-"Yes… it has just been a long and very bad day."

He smiled weakly at Lincoln and looked out at the dark rain for a few seconds.

-"Do you think we can do it?

Michael's voice sounded far, like he wasn't really interested in his brother's answer.

-"… After everything we have lost Michael… The only thing that we still have is faith, and I'm not ready to lose that."

Then Michael smiled softly at his brother and turned the handle slowly, but before walking into the dark room that he shared with Sara, he spoke low again:

-"… I'm not ready either."

To be continued…

Insults, comments or reviews are always welcome.


	4. Promises

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break; I don't even own Wentworth Miller…Sad but true.

Rating: PG-15

Paring Michael/Sara.

Summary: …And Michael thought that he could get used to wake up with Sara Tancredi taste on his mouth.

Note: Surely this is the most personal story that I have ever wrote… And one of the most long, so don't hate me.

Dedicated to my patient Beta, who makes this possible.

I feel lucky of have known you.

Spoilers until 2x16, after that, just my sick imagination.

Title: The little things.

Chapter title: Promises

By Lylou

Insults, comments or reviews are always welcome.

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_"-…I need you to do something for me."_

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The room was completely in darkness and the rain outside was beating the window furiously.

Michael searched the handle blindly at his back and when he found it, looked the door behind him.

Because he had discovered just two nights ago, that it was impossible for him to sleep knowing that the door was unlocked and that Sara was there.

It was too much risk and he wasn't ready to run it.

It took a bit for Michael eyes to accustom to the half-light there, but after a few seconds he distinguished Sara's body under the blankets.

-"… Sara?"

His voice sounded low and warm, rising above the noise of the rain that was sliding outside the window.

She did not answer.

-"Sara."

Michael said her name again in the darkness, like a whisper, like if his voice would break her.

He didn't want to wake up her but there was a hidden urge tone in his voice, and then, Michael couldn't help to notice again how much he depended of that woman.

The sad truth was the he always had been alone and he wasn't use to need someone.

The responsibility that involved sleep next to other warm body, the trust that Sara proved to have on him getting sleep half-naked and next to him every night... Or her now dark hair, spread all over the pillow, the taste of her skin at midnight in his mouth, her calm breathing in the dark at his side in bed… All that, and thousands more little things were a completely new experience for Michael Scofield.

And it was a responsibility, sleeping next to Sara was a responsibility and Michael loved responsibilities, but this one was different and close.

Michael was more than use to take care of everybody around him, even knowing that that would consume him.

But Sara….

Now his only fear was to be able to keep her next to him while everything was falling down around them.

For the very first time in his life Michael was doing something just because of him.

Of course he wanted that Sara to stay well and safe, but it was because he needed her, more than he had needed any other thing before.

In just a few nights together and running away in dark motels like that, Michael had understood that he would never be free of Sara Tancredis spell.

And that he didn't want to be it.

Now the life was defined by her breathing in the dark, by the taste of her kisses in his tongue, by her small fingers reading blindly the ink behind his skin …

And Michael could perfectly understand Kellerman; look at Sara, see her smiling or stay with her everyday and can't even touch her, was something that he had known very well being in that infirmary.

It was like a slow and mortal poison extending all over his veins.

And Michael could imagine Paul's feelings very well, but see her next to him makes Michael get sick.

It was almost funny; funny and painfully, because he never had been a jealousy man before.

But maybe he never had have something just his before.

-"Sara…"

-"I'm awake"

Sara's low voice mixed up with the rain falling outside.

Michael moved a few steps toward the bed through the darkness.

-"You can't sleep?"

His voice sounded close and warm, like when he talked next to her here at midnight, like he always had talked to her, even when they were in that far infirmary surrounded by lies and silences… Like if Sara was the only person on earth; and she thought once again if Michael Scofield knows the effect that his low voice has over her.

-"…I guess that I wasn't that tired after all…"

Of course Sara was lying.

All the muscles in her body were aching her, the moisture was still under her skin and even under all the blankets she couldn't get warm.

But Sara wasn't ready to say the truth, she couldn't say _"I can't sleep without you."_

Instead Sara turned in bed to look at him through the half-darkness of the room:

-"Are you coming to bed?"

Her voice slid over the dark walls of the room, rising above the rain outside, and Michael listened, a flash on hope on her.

-"…Yes."

Michael's voice sounded low and close.

Like it used to be.

But he looked at her through the darkness during a few seconds, in silence, hoping that she would say the words that he wanted to hear, the words that he know she was thinking…

But not.

She just kept silence and wrapped herself up more in the blankets.

And it was a cruel and stupid game, and she was losing it because she loved him… But Sara couldn't help to play it.

She couldn't help to hurt him, or to feel guilty and relieved every time that she saw a flash of pain and jealousy in Michael's eyes when she was near Kellerman.

Sara couldn't help to get slowly and in silence on top of him, while he was half-naked and lying in the bed, and kiss him desperately, whispering that she was sorry for everything, listening him murmuring with his warm voice, half-extinguished by her kisses, that he was sorry too…

…Or to feel Michael's soft hands slowly, and still a bit ashamed underneath her clothes.

Sara couldn't help to feel a shiver run through her body at his warm breathe when he whispered on her earlobe, low and pleading, in the darkness of all that cold motels rooms: "…Don't leave me."

Sara couldn't help any of those things anymore.

And she was losing that game, because it was like dying slowly and sweetly every time.

"…I need you to do something for me."

Maybe it has been then the first time that Sara knew she loved him, because that morning in her infirmary she would have done anything for him.

Except to wait for him.

Like now.

But even all that, now she let Michael sigh deep and sadly in the darkness.

And the silence installed again between them, like if it never had has gone before.

Sara looked at him; she was too tired and too cold to argue with him.

Arguing with Michael was always exhausting and frustrating, she always got a hundred guilty looks and hot kisses at the end from him, and mostly, their discussions used to be followed by culpable and hot sex, her complaints changed to warm words whispered in her hear and his fingers through her hair…

It was always almost painful to ignore him; especially when Michael lazily took off his sweatshirt and dropped it to the floor, followed slowly by his jeans.

She still wasn't used to having that familiarity and intimacy with someone.

The normality feeling that gave her to see Michael just take off his clothes and slide on the bed next to her, half naked.

Like as if they had spent years and lots of nights sleeping together.

And when Michael lay next to her, his warmth and his familiar smell filtrated under her skin, extending automatically all over her body, like a hot and addictive poison.

Like Michael Scofield.

Sara lay next to him, without touching him, just looking at him trough the half-darkness in the room, and Michael knew it because he could felt her warm and bright look over him.

He would have known that she was looking at him even if he was blind, because every time she looked at him like that, all the impersonal and cold motel rooms seemed a bit less impersonal and cold.

Suddenly it seemed almost like if he wasn't just a wall away from their bed… Or like if there could be a not that small hope for them.

For all of them.

-"Are you okay?"

Michael's voice sounded low, concerned and a thousands things more.

-"…Yes.

I just … I don't like storms."

Michael smiled weakly in the dark and spoke again:

-"… So, the almighty Sara Tancredi is afraid of something after all…"

A lighting illuminated the room completely during a few seconds, and Michael saw Sara looking at him warmly before to spoke closely:

-"… Michael Scofield, you never told me that you considered me almighty…"

He giggled low at her kidding tone and looked at her in that hot and half- ashamed way that could make her think like he didn't even seen a woman before her.

Like if just his hot glance sliding over her could break her.

Michael always looked at her like as if he hadn't seen her in years…

Michael saw that Sara's shoulder and neckline skin, naked and pale, was flattering under the dark blankets, her hair was messed up and spread on the pillow and her big eyes were sparking hotly… she was beautiful.

And Michael noticed the he never had seen that bright on her eyes when she was looking at Kellerman.

Or at least, Michael wanted to believe it.

-"I'm afraid of a lot of things…"

And intuitively Michael knew that one of the things what she was afraid of, was he.

-"…Why are you afraid of me Sara?"

Michael's voice sounded sad and low, and his question floated in the air of that dark room during a few seconds.

-"…I'm not.

…I just…"

Sara talked frailly, almost whispering next to him, and Michael felt her fingers making soft circles on his bare waist.

Michael closed his eyes slowly at her touch, the rain didn't take break since hours ago and tomorrow they will have to share a car in silence again, with Kellerman near her and their mutual lies surrounding them… But all that doesn't matter him anymore, because now there was just Sara's touch in that bed, and Michael felt her scent inundating all the dark air in the room; It was wrong, he knew that it was an awful and addictive mistake.

Michael had known it since the first morning that he entered in that infirmary and Sara looked at him with her bright and wide eyes, since the first night that he thought of her in her green blouse, tied just since the third stud, discovering her warm and pale skin underneath, and Michael couldn't almost sleep that night in his litter, thinking how her skin felt under his mouth.

It was wrong, but Michael couldn't just start to think how it would be to live without her sleeping at his side.

-"… I'm afraid of lose myself into all this Michael.

Afraid of waking up some day in some dusty motel room, and discover that there are no answerers for me, that everything has been in vain…"

Her voice broke a bit, like if she was about to cry, but there was something more in her words that Michael recognized very well, rage.

And in Sara's voice it sounded like salt spilled in her open and still bleeding wounds.

Michael moved his hands to her waist and pulled her closer, embracing her tightly under the blankets, until he could feel her breathe in the crook of his neck.

She was cold; Michael didn't realize how cold she was until now.

He griped her body tightly, trying to pass to her some warmth, but she spoke again and her voice still sounded lost and broken, like if she didn't even feel that Michael was hugging her:

"…I'm afraid of discovering that this is more important than you and me… afraid of that this will swallow us Michael, that this hit us furiously tearing us apart, forever."

Michael's heart broke; there was so much pain and love in her words.

Sara was afraid to lose him and afraid of discovering that there could be something more important for him, and Michael couldn't help to feel again, like that morning in her infirmary, when he told her all the truth that he could tell her then, and Sara looked at him like she thought that the only thing that he always had wanted from her, had been that damn and small key.

Like if he didn't love her more than anything.

Sara laid the side of her face on his bare chest in silence, listening to the beating of his heart, Michael ran his fingers slowly through her now dark hair, and he pressed his lips against Sara's ear and spoke lowly, more afraid of losing her than ever before:

-"I'm not going let that happen Sara…

I promise."

He didn't have any right to promise her something like that, but Michael knew that he would have to say anything to keep her next to him.

Sara raised her head just to look at him, but she continued leaned on his, and Michael saw her big eyes and her warm glance fix on him.

She didn't believe him.

At least not everything, but Michael didn't know it then.

They had lost everything and now both where paying for it, their factures were paid with painful silences and lost looks trough the car window.

Michael felt like he was about to lose her and tightened his grip around Sara, until he could felt her breathe near to his mouth.

She was on his top already, but Michael pressed her body against his harder, until he could felt her the cold skin of her back under his hands, like if Michael were suddenly afraid that she would vanish into some invisible, dark hole between their bodies.

Michael kissed her deeply, feeling her warm and familiar taste in his tongue; her now dark hair was falling at the sides of his face and Michael slowly pushed strands of it behind her ear without stopping the kiss.

He just stopped kissing Sara to look at her in silence, like if there wasn't nothing else in the world, like if everything outside of that bed wasn't falling apart and dragging them painfully into the disaster… Michael's fingers were still playing softly through her hair and his mouth was just a few centimetres from hers, so much that Michael still could feel her warm breathing upon his skin.

Michael brushed his lips against hers and whispered close to her mouth, repeating badly over and over again between hot and desperate kisses:

-"…I promise…

I promise."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Michael opened his eyes slowly.

The sound of the rain outside has awaked him, but there was something more.

The unmistakable feeling that something was wrong.

He had learned that in Fox River, wake up and feel that, something wrong was happening.

Or about to happen.

The weak and cold dawn light slipped by the chinks of the blinds and Michael could distinguish lazily the borders of the furniture in the half-darkness.

Michael noticed that he was almost naked and automatically felt the taste of Sara's sweat and saliva in his mouth.

He smiled a bit in the darkness, remembering last night's hot whispers and desperate kisses, and he thought that he could get used to wake up with Sara Tancredi taste on his mouth.

Michael stretched the arm to touch Sara's body under the blankets.

And then Michael understood why he had wake up suddenly.

Sara wasn't there.

To be continued….

Insults, dead threats, comments, everything is really appreciated.


	5. Insomnia

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break; I don't even own Wentworth Miller…Sad but true. 

Rating: PG-15

Summary: … Lincoln looked at this brother bleeding from his nose next to him, and wondered again how many times he would have to see his small brother bleeding to be free.

Note: Surely this is the most personal story that I have ever wrote… And one of the most long, so don't hate me please.

Dedicated to Chloe, who makes this possible

I feel lucky of have known you.

Spoilers until 2x16, after that, just my sick imagination.

Title: The little things.

Chapter title: Insomnia

By Lylou

Insults, comments or reviews are always welcome.

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_Michael: You still think you're running the show. Don't you? _

_Kellerman: You still think I'm not?_

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Paul Kellerman had always slept with an open eye.

Always, since he was just a little boy the screams and the adrenaline over his veins had kept him alert even when he was sleeping.

He had to learn how to keep his little sister safe since he was just a teenager, and after that, all the training and the painful memories had done a good part too.

That's why Paul Kellerman listened to the quiet and professional steps in the wooden porch.

In the outdoor of the contiguous room that he shares with Lincoln.

For a very little second, Kellerman thought that surely it should be Sara, or maybe the damn Michael Scofield having a good insomnia attack.

But just during a second.

He had passed enough vigilant and watchful nights to recognize when someone was watching him.

Paul opened his eyes in the half-darkness on the room and cleared completely, and this time yes, he was sure that there was someone watching outside, but he still has another problem.

Since the first night that Sara had joined them, Michael used to handcuff him to the motel beds,_ "-Just to be sure_", had said the bastard.

-"…Lincoln…"

He whispered trying to wake up Lincoln who was sleeping a few steps from him, in the other bed, but it wasn't working, and this time, Paul heard a few quiet words outside too, he counted three persons at least.

-"Lincoln"

This time it worked, because Lincoln spoke with a sleepy tone:

-"…Go to hell."

-"I need you to untie me."

-"…Resolve it by yourself and leave me alone… "

Kellerman mumbled again, more anxious this time:

-"Listen to me brute … there is someone outside…

Is your brother's outdoors."

Lincoln opened his eyes and listened in silence, he heard soft steps, a door opening slowly and low whispers over Kellerman's grumbles:

-"Come on brute… untie me."

Lincoln ignored his words and waked-up from bed slowly.

He approached the window and moved the curtain a bit to look to the dark porch.

The rain hadn't stopped and there was lightning now too, and he saw that Michael's room door was half open.

And there was a man standing in the doorway

Kellerman waked from bed doing everything that he could on being tied, and spoke low but fully clear:

-"… Untie me "

Lincoln looked outside during a few seconds more and turned in the half-darkness of the room to walk in Kellerman's direction.

He caught the small and shiny key from his pants and threw it to Kellerman:

-"If you try to screw us, I'll let Michael kill you."

Paul released his wrist fast and took his gun from the night table, he spoke with that annoying tone that he used to bother Michael, but Lincoln heard something else in his voice.

He was worried:

-"…I'm not the stupid thug over here."

Lincoln murmured something but Kellerman didn't even pay attention to him while he looked through the curtain.

Paul spoke whispering behind the blind:

-"They are not from the Company…"

-"They?

I just…"

-"…The other two are surely in the room already…"

Lincoln looked worried to Kellerman and spoke again:

-"How do you know, that they are not some of your _old friends_?"

Kellerman looked at Lincoln with a half shadowy smile in his face, and then answered:

-"Because I have heard them…

If any of my _old friends_ would have wanted to kill you, you won't even hear them coming."

Lincoln looked anxious at Michael's half-open door:

-"Then?"

Kellerman looked at the man outside Sara's door trying to think fast.

The man outside was in his forty's and his rifle was hanging and falling over his shoulder.

It seemed more like a bounty hunter in a really lucky night.

In a hand-to-hand fight Lincoln and he would have won over him without get tired… But Kellerman could almost smell the alcohol on that man from where they were.

He knew that it was going to be a problem for them.

Lincoln's voice sounded urgent:

-"…What?!"

-"I'm thinking okay"

Lincoln looked again through the curtain to see the man standing outside Michael's entrance:

-"We don't have time for that…

My brother is in that room."

-"…Your brother is not the only one in that room."

Lincoln looked at him in silence during a few seconds, trying to understand his words, and before Kellerman could stop him, Lincoln opened their room door violently.

And the rest happened very fast, like use to occur with the important and decisive moments in life.

Just an idiot really, really drunk, wouldn't see Lincoln Borrows walking furiously through him… And unfortunately, that stupid bounty hunter wasn't that drunk.

So he stopped to look at Sara and Michael's half open door, and turned to Lincoln, raising clumsily the rifle in that wooden porch.

And Kellerman shot him, just once.

The silencer and the storm attenuated the shooting noise, and if it hadn't of been for the powder smell floating in that porch, Lincoln would have thought that he had imagined it everything.

That Paul Kellerman hadn't really killed the man that was bleeding over the wood in front of them.

Kellerman ran to the man in the floor and walked over the dark blood puddle to take his rifle from the ground.

Like as if he was used to do things worse than that.

And Kellerman would surely have hit Lincoln for being that stupid, but then they both saw another man going out from the dark room.

He was definitely drunk or used to be it, anyone would see that in his eyes, but Paul Kellerman also saw surprise mixed with hate… and fear.

He had looked at many other man's eyes with that look in their eyes before he killed them.

Paul was about to shoot him too when a second man appeared in the entry with his gun against the temple of Michael Scofield.

Lincoln face changed fast, from surprise to fear when he saw his little brother.

Kellerman looked at the man with the gun in Michael's temple and spoke coldly, but he didn't seem to listen:

-"Let him go."

The rain was falling furiously outside that dark porch and a lightening illuminated all of them during a few seconds, but none of them seemed even to notice it.

The two men looked surprised to the third one, definitely dead in the wood floor, and the one with the gun in Michael's temple spoke under another lightening:

-"… I'll kill him, I swear"

His voice sounded burked but emboldened, Kellerman studied the situation during a few seconds, Michael caught, Lincoln scared and useless at his side, two bounty-hunters drunks and nervous… And no trace of Sara.

Another lightening illuminated violently the dark porch and the pond of blood under his feet, and Kellerman listened his heart pumping in his ears, discovering that he was afraid for the first time since long, long ago.

But they hadn't come that far to get caught by two stupid people in a lucky night.

Kellerman passed his tongue fast upon his lips, and spoke under the noise of the rain, trying to sound cold and professional as usually:

-"I don't care, but you have one-hundred thousand reasons for not pulling the trigger … Your are not going to be that stupid, are you?"

The rain quietened the other man nervous words:

-"I know who they are… But who the hell are you?"

The other one looked at Kellerman and spoke out loud:

-"You have killed him…"

Kellerman smiled coldly but he didn't throw the gun:

-"Yes… And I'll kill you too if you don't let him go right now."

A greedy flash crossed man eyes:

-"Like you had said my friend… He cost one-hundred thousand, and the other one, three times more."

A dark bright shone in Kellerman's eyes before to spoke:

-"Are you interested in the reward too?"

Lincoln looked at Kellerman knowing then what he was trying to do. It was dangerous, but it was the only way that they had now.

Kellerman spoke slowly and confident, he was used to have the control over all the situations and that was always present in his voice tone:

-"If you are interested in the reward too, maybe we can make a deal."

The other two looked each other, with a nervous look and Lincoln knew then that Kellerman was too near to win their confidence.

Paul spoke again, and Lincoln saw how persuasive and manipulating that bastard could be. Just like Michael:

-"To the room… Now."

Kellerman pointed at the lifeless body of the other one in the porch:

-" And entered him too…"

The four man walked before Kellerman and entered Sara's room, but when Lincoln passed to his side, he saw a dark bright in Kellerman's eyes, it was impossible for Lincoln to know what he was thinking.

The only light in the room was a small table lamp, bathing all of them with her weak and yellowish light.

-"Sit there."

The one that was holding a very silent Michael pushed him to the bed and handcuffed him to the headrest.

-"You too…"

He made a sign with the gun to Lincoln to sit down next to his brother, and handcuffed him to the headrest too.

Lincoln looked at this brother bleeding from his nose next to him, and wondered again how many times he would have to see his small brother bleeding to be free.

But Michael didn't say anything; he was just sitting there, in silence, looking carefully at Kellerman, standing in the middle of that room, talking slowly with those men and still with his weapon in his hands.

Michael saw again how much empathic and persuasive that man could be.

He wanted to think that surely that was how he had neared that much to Sara… Surely it hadn't been anything to do with Michael leaving her and with Sara convinced that he never had loved her.

Surely.

Kellerman looked at him, with disguise but coldly with that professional and demanding look in his eyes that Michael hated that much… But this time, Michael saw something more in his eyes, like a blurred question floating behind his dark pupils: "_Where is she?"_

Michael wished to know it.

When he had awaked, Sara wasn't there, and he had felt the first hit a few seconds before.

_"Surely she couldn't sleep and had gone to take a walk under the storm in the damn wood"_

It was the most stupid and improbable possibility of all, and surely Michael would have laughed if he wasn't feeling the taste of his blood again and if he wasn't that much worried for Sara.

Because the truth was that Michael wasn't ready to think in any other possibilities.

Paul looked over at Michael again; nobody there has named Sara.

Kellerman tell to himself that it was a good sign, because it means that the two stupid bounty-hunters didn't even noticed the black bra half-hidden by the blankets lying in the floor, or her smell still trapped in that dark room.

Paul had felt it just a few hours before, when he was gripping Sara tightly against his body under the rain.

A very silent Michael Scofield, and the dark doubt floating in his eyes, convinced Kellerman that he didn't know neither where she was.

Paul spoke again, still with the gun in his hand:

-"So… What is going to be gentlemen? 200.000 or your brains in the wall?"

Kellerman pointed to the dead body in the floor and spoke again, with a cold but kind voice tone:

-"…He had already made his choice."

His question floated during a few seconds in the half-dark air of the room, and when one of the men was about to answer, the door opened suddenly and a soaking and distracted Sara Tancredi entered in the room.

To be continued…

Comments are love.


	6. Hooke's law

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break or Wentworth Miller…Sad but true.

Rating: PG-15

Summary: Sara knew that all the lies, the silences and all the pain, hadnt done nothing more that begin for all of them.

Note: Surely this is the most personal story that I have ever wrote… And one of the longest, so don't hate me please.

Dedicated to Chloe, who makes this possible. I feel lucky of have known you.

Spoilers until 2x16, after that, just my sick imagination.

Title: The little things.

Chapter title: Hooke's law

By Lylou

Insults, comments or reviews are always welcome.

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_"-…It says that if you poke exact right holes in something big and strong, it gets very weak." _

_"-…That's true."_

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Sara raised her eyes surprised in the half-darkness of that motel room.

She didn't understood what was going on, but Sara had the unequivocal felling of that something was very wrong for them, like if she had a knot in the pit of her stomach.

The storm was continuing outside and she listened a thunder very near to where they were, and everything shivered in the penumbra of that room, like a warning of what was coming next.

The only light in the room was the yellowish light of the small table lamp upon the night table.

She couldn't see the bed from where she was, but even that she knew then that something was wrong, and thousand of thoughts passed through her mind fast and devastatingly, and Sara turned a bit searching for Kellerman.

Because suddenly Sara knew that Kellerman was in that room in dusk, like if she had smelled his scent trapped in the dark air.

And for a very few moments Saras mind felt in her own tramp: "_How can you know how does Paul Kellerman smells?"_

And when she saw him in Michaels room, in their room, with that serious face and his grave look, Sara knew that all the lies, the silences and all the pain, hadnt done nothing more that begin for all of them.

But before she could say anything, Sara felt a push and an unknown weight pushed her tightly and face down against the dark and cold wall.

She felt the cold wall against her wet cloths and a shiver of fear rushed from her spin when she felt someone's body pressing her hardy against the wall, and an unknown breathing into her hear. And Sara understood then what was going on.

The unidentified weight at her back pressing her face down against the wall, was man.

She felt his anxious hands in her waist, keeping her against that cold wall, Sara couldnt see what was happening in the room because the left side of her face was pressed against the wall and she just could see the small lamp and Lincoln's legs, but even that, she felt clearly the breathe and the smell of a man behind her.

And of course, it wasnt Michael.

In the few nights together Sara has get used to his smell, to his breathe warm in her hear, and most of all, to his touch. Because Michael always touched her like if she could break if he made a wrong move, like if she could vanish if he pressed her a bit more.

Sara had get used to Michaels touch and smell that much that she would have recognize him even face down against that dark and cold wall.

And that man, wasnt Michael Scofield.

Sara was even more sure and scared when he spoke and she listened his dark and unknown voice into her hear:

-"I think that you have terribly mistaken the room sweetheart."

Sara felt his hot and rough breathe in her hair and understood painfully that their problems were ending up to being.

The pressure against her body loosened and she turned fast, leaning her back in the wall and breathing nervously.

And finally Sara saw a very worried Michael handcuffed to headrest, next to Lincoln.

He had blood stains in his t-shirt … Sara always had felt a knock over the heart every time that she saws Michaels blood, every time, even when they were in that now that far infirmary.

But this time, worst than his blood, was Michaels look.

He was looking scared and nervous at her, like if everything in their lives would depend of that exact moment, like if he could feel the future pain from where they were now… And there was something more floating in his eyes: A silent apologize.

And Sara knew that look very well.

Everything was happening in a very few seconds, and it remembered to her vaguely those nights, when she was high and alone, trying desperately to make that something would have some sense for her.

Lincoln was looking at her in silence, with a sad mix of guilt and resignation, and Paul had still the gun on his hand, and was standing and looking straight at her. Sara saw his dark pupils trembling nervously.

And she knew time ago that when that man was nervous, was because the situation was worst than anybody had though.

There were other two armed men in the room with them, one of them still too close to her, almost breathing her same air, and Sara supposed that it has been him the one that had pushed her against the wall.

"-Who are you?"

Paul was fast thinking and he always used to work fine under pressure, but this time he felt something more than the familiar taste of the adrenaline in his mouth… something more like fear, because he knew that if Sara didnt fallow his game fast, the things would put really bad for all of them, specially for her.

He wasnt blind, Paul has seen very well the look in that man eyes while he was pressing Saras body against the wall, and just with one look in Michael direction Paul understood that he had seen it too.  
Paul repeated his question to Sara, and his voice sounded more nervous this time:

-"Who are you?"

Kellerman's question and tone made Sara understood finally what was going on, so she looked again slyly to Michael before to answer him:

-"I have… I just have confused the room."

Her voice sounded tense but still calm, Kellerman half smiled, looking straight at her with that dark and hot look that he used to had in a very few times, and opened the rooms door slowly for her before to speak low:

-"It is your lucky day. Go."

Sara looked at him during a very few moments, trying to know where the real Paul Kellerman starts, then she looked fast and disguisedly to Michael and Sara saw a relief look in his eyes.

Michael wanted her to leave.

Sara walked a few steps to the half open door, but then she felt a tight grip around her arm and when she heard the suffocated and dark "_No"_ of that unknown man close to her, Sara understood that it wasnt going to be that easy for them to leave that room.

To be continued…

Every comment is love.


	7. The deal

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break or Wentworth Miller…Sad but true.  
Rating: PG-16  
Summary: Michael had learnt time ago that the pain was always more insupportable and devastating when it was Sara Tancredis pain.

Dedicated to Chloe, who makes this possible.  
I feel lucky of have known you.

Thank you for your patience.  
Spoilers until 2x16, after that, just my sick imagination.  
Title: The little things.  
Chapter title: The deal.

By Lylou

Insults, comments or reviews are always welcome.

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_-"…I need you to do something for me…"_

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Sara looked at that man who was holding her wrist wide awake through the darkness of the room, trying to not let him know how scared she was, but wondering for the very first time, how have all of them become to this.

She looked again to Michael cuffed to the headrest and with bloodstains on his T-shirt.

And she understood how bad their situation was, when Sara saw that guilty look in Michael's face, like as if he thought that he doesnt even deserve the air that he was breathing, like if he was sure that he had failed her, loud and painfully.

Again.

Sara tried to think fast, but the only coherent thought that seems to be in her mind suddenly, was that just four months ago, her life was lonely but relatively safe.

Four months ago the only real danger in her life was Michael sitting half-naked in her infirmary, looking at her with his blue and greenish liquid eyes, burning her slow but deeply, and making her wonder how she would be able to wake up everyday knowing that Michael Scofield was in love with her.

Now she knew that, and it wasn't really a hard decision to make for her.

Because four months ago Sara didn't know how her name sounded when Michael Scofield was moaning it into her hear.

And now that was one of the very few things that she could remember clearly: his voice, like an invisible tattoo in her skin… It was almost funny.

Kellerman's cold voice near her took her from her thoughts:

-"…She isn't useful."

Then Sara felt that mans grip tightening around her wrist painfully, and a small complain escaped unintentionally from her mouth.

Kellerman looked at her direction less than a second fraction and next looked again to the man that was holding her, but he didnt release the pressure around her wrist, he just looked at Kellerman and spoke bleakly and commanding:

-"… Ill decide what is "_useful_" and what it isnt."

And when Sara saw that sinister and urge bright in his eyes, and heard the tone of that "_useful_" in that man's voice close to her, she understood painfully what it was all that about and what was going to happen next.

She felt a mix of fear and rage when she felt how he pushed her back against the wall and suddenly all the air in that room wasnt enough for her.

Sara felt an acute pain in the nape, where she had hit it against the cold wall, but this time, she didnt complain.

Sadly in the last months, she had learnt too well to handle her own pain, better than she always had handled others pain.

From where she was now, and on the half-darkness on the room, Sara could see everything, including the storm hitting merciless at the window and Kellerman's dark eyes fixed on her.

He was just a few steps from her and her aggressor, and he still had the gun in his hand, but Kellerman didnt move.

He was just looking at her with a look that she wasnt used to seeing in Paul Kellerman.

But she hadn't got the strength to think about that now, Sara was too busy trying to think and control her breathing, and of course, trying to not to look in Michaels direction.

Because Sara knew that she wasn't going to be able to handle the scared and guilty look that surely he was having now.

Sara imagined his eyes wet and wide open, and his beautiful mind working fast, trying in vain to think of someway to save her.

And to save him.

Because that was one of Michael's best defects: He never surrendered.

Even when everybody around could see that the earth was about to open and to drag all of them to hell, Michael Scofield didnt give up.

Thats why he was looking at Sara since the other side of that room, feeling the cold steel around his wrist, making him feel useless and unable to help her, but still he was attentive and listening to his own heartbeats into his ears, and while his blood was thickening while it was passing through by his heart, his thoughts were accelerating and agglomerating confusedly in his mind:

"_Nothing irreparable has happen yet… But you know what is going to happen now._

_And you are going to lose her; there is no going to left any of her after that."_

He felt his eyes dampening and his pulse accelerated… Michael hadn't said anything yet; he was waiting for some magical intervention:

"_It is the worst moment in your life to have faith."_

Everything was happening slowly, like if it wasnt true, just like as if he was seeing a movie in a slow motion.

Michael saw that man holding Sara against the wall, breathing near her face, and her eyes wet and scared; he looked again at the dead body of the other one in the floor, upon a big and dark blood stain.

"_It is really happening"_

Michael could also see the second armed man lowering the weapon slowly and unconsciously, looking at his buddy with a mix of fear and wish in his eyes, while the other was holding Sara.

Lincoln was next to him, handcuffed too the same headrest and he was looking to the floor, and that look in Kellerman eyes… Michael hadnt noticed before.

Paul was waiting, hoping that the things didnt go to more.

Or at least, that was what Michael thought then.

None had done nothing irreversible yet, the one holding Sara hadn't touch her yet, he was speaking with the other one, Michael breathed deep trying to think fast… But he couldn't.

It was a waste of time, because Michael had learnt time ago that the pain was always more insupportable and devastating when it was Sara Tancredis pain.

Because just to know that she was suffering, or scared, or lost out there, makes that everything else twisted slower and painful for him.

And it wasnt just that the whole world seemed to move slowly for him without Sara near, was the feeling of all that he knew or everything of what he was able, wasn't enough against her pain of her tears.

And sadly, it wasn't the first time that Michael had thought broken, that no matter what he would do or go, because he would never be able to keep Sara safe and fine.

And Michael knew that she was really scared because Sara wasn't looking at him.

-"… No one is going to believe them... They are just damn escaped felons.

It is perfect Stan."

The other one looked at Sara trapped between the wall and his buddy, there was still a small doubt in his look, but Michael saw clearly the way in which that man was looking at Sara.

-"What about him?"

He pointed with the gun in Kellermans direction, who keep quiet.

The one that was holding and aiming at Sara looked suspiciously at Paul for a second and spoke again:

-"…Maybe, if we let him play with her too, he will keep our small secret…

What do you say?"

He looked again at Kellerman, waiting for his answerer, and suddenly everything else in that room, even the storm outside, seemed to have silenced.

Paul smiled coldly and looked at Sara for a moment, then he looked again at the man with the gun under her ear and answered:

"-Deal."

Sara felt a knot in her stomach when she heard his answer.

She never had thought that Paul Kellerman was a good man, not even a normal man… But in the last few days there had been something fluttering in her mind, whispering to her that maybe some far day, she could trust that son of a bitch… Or maybe even think about forgiving him.

Until that moment.

The one that was holding Sara smiled coldly at Kellerman and looked at his still doubt buddy direction and spoke again, still with that cold smile in his lips:

-"No one is going to doubt that they raped and killed her Stan… They are criminals.

And our new friend is going to keep our little secret"

He looked again at Kellerman next to them and Paul didnt move, he just made an affirmative sign with the head.

Then, the man holding Sara smiled and looked at her again, and when he spoke she knew that everything was about to go to hell for her:

-"It is nothing personal sweetheart…

You have chosen a wrong night to mistake a room."

Sara felt the cold cannon of the gun in her throat and that mans breath in her face.

His hands moved down to her waist and he buried his face in her neck, and Sara could felt his saliva on her skin and his disgusting breathing upon her.

He pushed her harder against that wall and she felt slowly her eyes filling up with warm tears, but she didnt let them fall.

She was too busy trying to imagine that that man wasnt actually searching for the clasp of her belt, that she wasn't felling his rude and anxious hands forcing with the zip of her jeans.

Everything, his hands, his touch, his breath and his smell… Nothing was like Michaels.

And it was a horrible and disgusting feeling.

The most horrible and disgusting thing that she had ever felt.

Sara had her eyes closed, trying to think faster than his hands, but the cannon of that gun was too cold against her skin to let her think of anything else.

Everything was happening too fast, but Saras world stopped suddenly when she felt the button of her jeans opening finally and that mans touch upon her skin.

But even all that, an idea crossed fast her scared mind, she opened her eyes and looked at him, and to Kellerman, who was near them but wasn't looking at her, even when she whispered:

-"Maybe we can make a deal…"

Saras voice sounded far and distant, like if she wasn't really saying it out loud, but it was enough for him to part from her a bit to look at her, with that repulsive smile in his face:

-"You want to make a deal?

You dont have anything to negotiate now sweetie, I have already untied your jeans…"

Sara tried not to think too much in what she was doing and spoke again too near to that unknown man, trying to sound convince and calm:

-"…That is not true…

I can play nice with you and with your friends…

I can do everything you want…"

That man looked at her, half curious and half suspicious, and she knew that she had got his attention.

Then Sara looked for the very first time in Michaels direction, and when she saw the look in his eyes Sara knew that she had lost an important part of him forever.

That Michael Scofield could never forgive himself for that.

But she had made her choice already.

So Sara spoke again, near to that man that was about to ruin their lives forever, and this time, her voice sounded awfully determined and cold:

-"…But youll have to let them go."

To be continued…

Insults, dead threats… everything is welcome and love.


	8. Destiny

**Disc****laimer:** I don't own Prison Break or Wentworth Miller…Sad but true.

**Rating:** NG-17

**Summary** … And Sara knew then that Michael Scofield had given up for the very first time in his life.

Dedicated to my wonderful Chloe, who makes this possible.

Thank you for your magic touch.

Spoilers until 2x16, after that, just my sick imagination.

**Note**: This is a long chapter; I hope you won't hate me for it.

**Paring:** Michael/Sara

**Title:** The little things.

**Chapter title**: Destiny

By Lylou

Feedback is always like sex and coffee combined.

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"_-…It was never__ personal Sara…" _

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-"…But youll have to let them go."

Saras words floated for a few seconds in the dark air of the room.

She could perfectly feel Kellerman's iced eyes fixed in her, but she didnt care, Sara didnt even look at him.

She was busy trying to continue breathing and looking at Michael through all the shadows in that room.

And then, was when Sara really got scared.

Because to feel that mans hands on her skin or the cold wall at her back while he was thinking about her dark proposal, was nothing compared with Michael, handcuffed to that headrest, and without even looking at her direction.

And Sara knew then that Michael Scofield had given up for the very first time in his life.

He had his greenish gaze lost somewhere in the floor, as if everything has finished already … But Sara knew him much better than she was expecting in just a few months, surely more than himself, because she could guess painfully all the thoughts that were passing fast through Michaels beautiful and self-destructive mind.

And through hers:

"_You are going to lose him…__He is just another shadow in that room… _

_There is no trace of Michael Scofield inside him right now."_

That was insupportable for Sara, she couldnt help to think that she had failed him like she had failed everyone else in her life.

Sara was used to seeing that disappointed look in the eyes of almost everyone she had known, like if everyone has supposed that she had to be the pretty little princess of some tale that she didn't even know about… _"To fail people had become almost a habit for you." _

But this time it was even more painful, not just because it was him, the only man that surely she had loved in her life… It was because he was Michael.

He had been the only person in her whole life that never had looked at her like if she had just broken his heart or if she had failed him, he was the only one that never had thought: "-_She is weak."_

She never had seen that disappointed look in his warm eyes.

But now Michael wasnt even looking at her and Sara knows very well what that means.

And with her clothes soaked by the rain outside and her wet hair adhered to her face, Sara thought again that it was unjustly easy to fall in love with Michael Scofield.

He was charming, adorable, interesting, a perfect gentleman… The guy you'll love to introduce your parents.

But Sara discovered time ago that it was exactly the way in what Michael had taken Lincoln out from Fox River.

Michael had persuaded everyone there, including her; he had manipulated and convinced everyone, _including you… _And he had broken out from a maxim security prison with other seven men.

And everything that, courtesy of the great and shiny Michael Scofield.

It was easy to love that man.

But Sara knew very well that there was another part of Michael Scofield, less shiny but much lonelier and much darker.

The one that was able to rip his hand and to paint the isolation cell walls with his blood, the one that could lose toes without asking for help or blink twice… The once needy and self-destructive, much more used to the pain and to the darkness than Sara would have wanted.

The one that would bleed to death for his brother.

Or for her.

Sara knew very well that part too, and she could swear that that side of Michael Scofield wasnt shiny, and that it wasnt made of fucking candy, paper flowers and opera tickets; it was dangerous, self-destructive and loved to feel guilty.

_-"__…And you are losing both now Sara, because one part of him would never forgive himself for that, and the other one, would never forgive you for have set him over you." _

Sara took a breath and felt that man hand still tightening her wrist: "_You are going to have new bruises tomorrow…"_

But at this moment, Sara would consider herself more than lucky if they would live to see _"tomorrow_".

The rain and the lighting were still outside that motel room, where the world seemed to continue spinning around without them.

And all the thoughts passed through Saras mind in just a few seconds, like if it was an important revelation that she had finally understood and not just their destiny, catching and hitting them without mercy.

But then Sara felt that man pulling furiously from her, and pushing her face down against the small night table, and then the destiny seemed more near and implacable for her.

For them.

Sara felt the hard wood against her face and she felt the taste of her own blood in her mouth when she bit her lip with the hit.

He grabbed her wrists strongly at her back and Sara saw the small table lamp broken in the floor, the weak and yellowish light from it was now inclined and all the shadows in the room seemed differently suddenly.

Sara felt the free hand of that man over her wet hair and along the side of her face that wasnt pressed against the night table, it was disgusting and Sara knew that surely she would never forgot his touch.

She felt his hot breathing in her ear and she sensed a cold canine smile in his lips when he spoke:

-"I thought you have just mistaken the room sweetheart… "

He looked suspiciously to Kellerman, who was still silent and quiet with the gun in his hand… but Paul didn't move.

The man holding Sara brushed his look away from Kellerman and talked again near her ear:

-"You are pretty … But your not worth four-hundred thousand… especially if I can have you now."

Sara took a deep breath when she listened to his words and made as if she wasnt feeling the cold cannon of his gun in her neck, he released her hands and Sara listened the metallic noise of his belt and of his fly opening.

And the rest, happened fast.

She looked at Kellerman for the first time; he was looking at her with those teasing and vigilant eyes with ones he had looked at her when he had made her laugh in the stairway of a church a warm evening, the same ones with he had looked at Sara when he had electrocuted her in the bathtub of a not that far motel.

"_-It was never personal Sara…"_

Paul eyes sparkled and Sara saw him looking at her through the shadows. And she also saw his fingers around the gun with the silencer … He continued immobile.

"_Do you really have thought __that damn Paul Kellerman would help you somehow?"_

But yes.

She had looked at him and for a fraction of a second Sara thought that maybe he would save her.

That maybe he would save all of them.

But Sara decided that she would worry about what could do that mean after, because then she heard Michael's voice half suffocated by the thunders and by the storm outside.

He was screaming her name like Sara had never heard him before and looking desperately and lost at her.

The man with the cold cannon against Sara's neck smiled at Michael insultingly, but his face changed fast when he saw Michael rising of the bed and walking furiously to him, until the short chain of the handcuffs around his wrist stopped shortly him.

But Sara saw his eyes and knew that definitively Michael wasnt there anymore; and she knew too that if it hadn't been for the short and metallic chain of the handcuffs in his wrist, Michael would have killed that man right there.

Her aggressor smiled again and then he looked with his free hand for Saras jeans clasp and she could felt his hands a bit less decided and more tremulous than just a seconds before.

Michael had scared him, and was scaring her too.

Sara never had seen that look in Michael's familiar eyes before and never had heard his voice sounding that full or rage "_You are losing every little piece of him… The man you love is not there anymore."_

Lincoln was standing-up now, but he was immobile and handcuffed too, looking worried to his young brother.

The other aimed man, the one that was standing in the door, was looking more and more nervous; from where she was Sara could intuit his lips moving but he didn't become to speak out loud, he had lowered his gun slowly and was looking worried at his buddy, who was still holding Sara strongly against the night table.

But then everything else seemed too vanished for her, because Sara listened to the metallic noise of the big and heavy bed being dragged slow and painfully upon the floor.

Sara saw terrified Michael dragging heavily the bed, pulling it painfully with his handcuffed wrist; and Sara could see too his handcuffed wrist covering fast with his own dark blood.

Sara didn't even see the look of pain in Michael's face because he wasn't seeming to feel it, but it must have hurt like hell because he was clearly cutting his own wrist skin while he was dragging the heavy bed: _"-The one that would bleed to dead for his brother. Or for you"_

Sara felt hot tears rolling over her face and mixing with the blood of her mouth when she saw that Michael wasn't even aware that he was suffering in vain, because she knows very well that he could never save her.

Sara hated the vision of his blood smudging painfully the dark ink underneath his skin, and she knew then that she was going to see Michael Scofield bleeding for her many times in her nightmares.

The man holding her seemed to recover his guts and smiled, mostly because after the initial shock, surely he understood that Michael would never break loose of the handcuffs to stop him; Sara felt the cold cannon pressed upon her neck but she didn't care, she didn't care about a damn right now except Michael, ripping his skin, bleeding for nothing and screaming under the storm:

-"You are a dead man…..I will kill you!!"

Sara listened clearly to the rage, the desperation and the fear in Michael's voice; Sara was used to the man with a low and warm voice that he always had when he was talking to her, but now Sara didnt even listen a small tone of that man.

And that worried her much more than the cold cannon in her neck and more than that man hands on her.

Michael screamed her name again and Sara felt the salty taste of her tears mixed with the blood when she heard Michael screaming her name like that, like as if she had died in front of his eyes, like as if she had abandoned him like everyone else in his life… Like as if she had failed him.

She wished to shout at Michael then, say to him that she didn't want to hear him saying her name like that never again in her whole life.

Sara wished to shout at him saying that he was scaring her, much more than that man behind her who was about to ruin forever the little happiness that maybe they would still have, all the little things that they could still keep…

But then Sara stopped feeling the cold cannon in her neck and she saw the gun upon the small night table, shining and terribly far from her reach.

Sara still needed a few seconds more to understand that he had released his gun because he needed his two hands to keep her hold and bent face down against that table "_How the hell would he ruin your life just with one hand?"_

That was the last crazy thought that crossed through Saras mind before the heard an unidentified sharp whisper near the porch door and another one just behind her, followed by two thuds in the floor.

Sara blinked fast twice and looked at Michael; He wasnt screaming anymore, now he was looking surprised and confused to somewhere behind her, but the only thing that Sara could saw and care about was Michael's blood, dripping slowly and dark to the floor.

-"…Sara…"

She listened to her name at her back and she moved her look from Michael's blood and turned slowly and with the hot tears still in her eyes.

Sara's scared and tired mind didn't even wonder why she wasn't feeling her aggressor impatient hands underneath her clothes and why he wasn't searching for the clasp of her jeans anymore until just a moments after, when her trembling legs stumbled with something in the floor, and then Sara could saw her attacker laying in the floor, spitting blood by his mouth and fighting for continue breathing.

She felt her heartbeats accelerating in her ears and then she tripped with the moribund man in the floor and lost her equilibrium, but Sara felt an arm around her waist holding her fast and impeding her fall to the floor next to her aggressor, whom was dying slowly and painfully.

Sara felt someone holding her and a not totally unknown hand in the small of her back holding her securely, until she could felt again the world spinning at his normal speed.

"-Sara…"

Pauls nervous and tense voice too near to her ear and his arm around her waist, holding her gently against his chest, made her react finally.

Sara could saw his gun shining in his other hand and she felt the powder smell still trapped in the air of that dark and dirty motel room.

She looked still a bit messed-up to the two men in the floor.

Then one that had been leant against the door was completely dead now, and the other one, the one that had been holding her bent and face down against the table trying to rape her, now, was agonizing near to her feet.

Paul Kellerman had shot them both.

Sara felt the air slowly filling her lungs again and looked at Paul, this time being fully conscious of what had have just happened for the very first time, and still with Paul's breathing upon her hair and his arm holding her against his chest.

She blinked twice and opened her mouth to say something, but she didnt came to say it out loud.

She listened to the rain outside hitting the blinds noisily but it didnt seem totally real for Sara.

"_Would__ you really have thought that the damn Paul Kellerman would help you somehow?"_

But yes.

He had done it; the son of a bitch had shot twice and had saved the day.

And by the way, he had saved her.

And Sara knew that surely she would ask herself "Why" for a very long, long time.

She was still feeling his hand in the small of her back and the heat off of his body only a very few centimeters from her.

Paul Kellerman.

The man that had tortured and tried to kill her only a week ago had just saved her from being raped in front of the man that she loved; and now Paul was holding her, he had whispered her name into her ear just a second ago and he was holding her softly against his chest in that tumbled and dark motel room like as if she didn't hate him more than anything.

Paul looked straight into her with those enigmatic eyes, like always and like never before.

"-…Sara…"

The she listened to Michael's worried and anxious voice behind her, calling her softly, but even then, Sara could feel how his familiar and warm tone wasn't there still; she could feel it even being backwards to him and still in Paul's arms.

Then Sara remembered Michael's blood falling painfully from his wrist, his lost glaze and the desperate way in which he had shouted her name just a minute before.

She loosed easily of Paul's arms and recoiled slowly a few steps, still looking surprised and confused at him.

Sara was still listening to her heart beating fast into her ears, but even then, she saw perfectly Paul's look in the half darkness: He was looking at her like as if… like as if he had wanted to keep her embrace for a few seconds more, like as if he had been at the verge of kissing her…

"_Like if the damn Paul Kellerman had just discovered that he is in love with you._

_Shut up… I don't want to even think about that."_

Sara stopped her crazy thoughts hardly; right now she already had enough things to worry about without that.

She separated her sight of Paul and walked fast until where Michael had dragged the bed "_for you", _but even backwards, Sara still could felt Paul's gaze settle over her a few seconds more; then that strange moment passed and Sara listened to Paul at her back, taking the small keys of the handcuffs from the pocket of one of the dead men in the floor and passing them to Lincoln.

Sara forget momentarily about Paul and wrapped her arms around Michael's neck, holding him as tight as she could, feeling his breathing upon her still wet and uncombed hair and his lips moving slowly in her earlobe:

-"…Sara…"

Michael said her name like a whisper and it sounded too far and too sad for her.

It sounded as if she was in some other room and the only thing that she had listened to would have been the echo of her name fading slowly, it sounded as if he had been searching for her and saying her name without rest during years and now he was beginning to loose hope… Michael said it as if she wasn't breathing in his neck, as if she wasn't there.

-"Michael… I'm here…

I'm here."

But he didn't answer; Michael just tightened his grip around her.

Sara leaned her forehead to his chest and closed her eyes for a moment, feeling Michael's free hand in the small of her back "_Just were Paul had has his a seconds before._

_Shut up."_

She smelled the familiar scent of Michaels skin underneath the white fabric of his t-shirt and she felt hot tears in her eyes.

But then Lincoln, who had already released himself, threw the small and shinny keys upon the bed, Sara caught them and with a fast move opened the small lock of the handcuff around Michael's injury wrist.

"_Try to no to think that this is Michael's blood… Don't think that he had made this to himself trying to save you."_

It was useless, but even then Sara tried.

The handcuff opened finally and Michael could hold her with his two arms, and Sara felt her warm tears damping the fabric of his t-shirt; she raised her head a bit and looked at Michael, finding something of the man that she loved.

He wasn't there, but Sara saw a small light at the end of their tunnel when Michael sifted his hand gently through her face and her hair.

Lincoln was looking in silence and a bit worried to them and to the three dead bodies in the floor, the last two ones and the one that Paul had killed before and cold blooded in the porch.

Everything had happened fast and Lincoln felt that he was going to need a drink soon; he turned to look at Kellerman, who was busy taking from the floor the guns of the men that he had killed, and asked him:

-"If you had thought to help her since the beginning… Why the hell do you take it so long?"

Kellerman looked again to the table and to the small lamp broken on the floor and projecting inclined shadows in the dark wall, he listened to the rain outside and looked at Michael and Sara hugging and whispered to the other side of the room, then he looked again to Lincoln and spoke in his usual distant tone of voice:

-"If you shoot someone who is holding a gun, the most possible is that he shoots before to fall… Believe me; I know what I'm talking about."

Lincoln looked at him in silence and Paul spoke again:

"-…I had to wait until he had left the gun."

Lincoln looked at his young brother at the other side of the bed, embracing Sara and staining her t-shit with his blood without even noticing it.

He turned to Paul again and spoke:

-"What if he didn't do it, what if he didn't leave the gun?"

Paul smiled soft and coldly and walked to the door while he was speaking:

-"I never thought in other possibilities Borrows."

Lincoln looked at him in silence for a few seconds, and then he looked again to Michael; Sara was examining his wrist and considering the concerned look in her face and all the blood, it had to hurt like hell, but Michael didn't even blink, he was just looking at Sara like if he hadn't seen her in years.

-"There are three men or something dead in that room…

We have to go."

Paul's voice sounded upset and demanding, he looked around one more time and opened the porch door.

Lincoln went out and he felt the cold and furious rain on his skin. Michael walked slowly, holding Sara against his chest to the opened door, his wounded wrist was in the small of her back, leaving dark blood stains on her shirt; Sara was beginning to feel everything returning to the normality, she was walking almost leant in Michael chest, feeling his soft breathing upon her hair; but when they passed to the open door that Paul was holding Sara raised her eyes and looked at Paul, and she saw the same look that she had seen when he was holding her before.

Sara saw guilt, sadness, fear and a thousand of little things more in his eyes.

And while the four were getting in silence into the car to leave that place under the storm and with the rain soaking them, Sara remembered Paul's more nearest to an apologize words that he had given to her once: _"-It was never personal Sara…"_

But it never had seemed more personal to Sara, than that moment.

To be continued…

Feedback is always like sex and coffee combined.


	9. Inflection point

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Prison Break or Wentworth Miller…Sad but true.

**Rating:** NG-17

**Pairing:** Michael/Sara

**Summary:** Because she had discovered one insomnia night, that Michael Scofield was the only thing that was keeping her from fall down and break…

Dedicated to my wonderful and patience Chloe, who makes this possible.

Thank you for your magic touch.

Spoilers until 2x16, after that, just my sick imagination.

**Title:** The little things.

**Chapter title**: Inflection point.

By Lylou

Feedback is always like sex and coffee combined.

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_-"…One more day Sara… That's all I'm asking."_

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sara felt Michael's familiar hand squeezing softly hers upon the worn-out tapestry of that tumbledown Ford.

The rain and the wind outside the car were hitting them without mercy, and the complete darkness around them was briefly interrupted only by some blurred and far car spotlights.

Michael hadn't looked at her in all the time; he hadn't even talked to her.

Not since the low and distant "-_I'm sorry._" that he had whispered ashamed into her ear when she was examining his injured and bleeding wrist in that dark motel room, with her hands still trembling and feeling her heartbeats in her temples.

But now they were in the back seat of the Ford and Lincoln was driving again under the storm; the four had been in complete and uncomfortable silence since they had left that shadowy and untidy motel room and the three dead bodies in the floor, more than two hours ago.

"_But you have left something more in that room Sara __…Your blood in that small table night, and Michael's in the floor, just next to everything else that he used to be."_

Sara closed her eyes slowly; she was tired, scared, soaking and all muscles in her body aching her while she was trying to release all the fear and the adrenaline accumulated that long night.

The rain sounded against the chassis in a metallic and angry noise, and she heard the windshield wiper working full speed to brush apart the dark rain; Lincoln had turned on the radio a few miles ago, surely sick of hearing only the sound of that uncomfortable silence, and now from the back seat, Sara could catch some blurred chords of something that she recognized automatically like Van Morrison.

How would Van Morrison sound like over a hammock, in some warm and quiet beach of Panama?

"_But y__ou are very far from Panama right now Sara… Maybe you never have been farther than now."_

Sara looked at Michael disguisedly, he was quiet and wide awake, looking steadily to the darkness outside the window and Sara knew intuitively that in his eyes there wasn't even a small trace of sleep.

"_But he used to sleep right? After making love to you in some unmade bed of an impersonal and dark motel room… He sleeps isn't it?"_

Sara couldn't answer completely convinced to that question, and that scared her.

The head was burning her as if she had gotten drunk the night before, and Sara could recognize that feeling very well; actually, time ago she had been a damn specialist in that and in waking up in some unknown bed next to someone that she didn't even remember to have met before… But all that had been before; when she was a different woman, a lost and completely alone woman.

It wasn't as if she was trying to find excuses for some of the things that she had done or for all the far and dead people that she had disappointed in her life, but the truth was that during the most part of her life, being Sara Tancredi hasn't been exactly a fucking fairy tale.

Because Sara had felt everything falling down and dragging her to the sink enough times, to recognize when it was going to happen again.

To know when she was about to feel that unmistakable sensation in the pit of her stomach, indicating her that everything was going to come down around her, the headache that always tells her that the tide was rising fast.

"_But you are not that woman anymore Sara… You are __not alone, now you have Michael."_

Sara took a deep breath and felt his warm hand squeezing hers a bit harder. Michael was still there, or at least, he was still there enough to understand that she needed him too.

Because she had discovered one insomnia night, in some unmade and still smelling like them motel bed, that Michael Scofield was the only thing that was keeping her from fall down and break…

But what would she do now? Now that Sara knew that he was broken too?

"_No matter what Sara, just don't screw up everything this time too… No one drags you to the sink faster than yourself."_

Then Sara heard Paul's severe and commanding voice breaking the silence in the car and the rain noise outside for the first time:

-"We need to hide for some time…

Let the storm passes."

-"No, we should continue without stop until Chicago."

Paul sounded fed up and impatient when he spoke again:

-"Sure Burrows, I almost forgot about how stupid you can be.

The man who went to kill someone openly in a parking lot full of security cameras. "

Lincoln grunted and took the wheel harder, until his knuckles turned white and spoke pissed off:

-"Maybe Im not the bitch of the President over here, but I can still remember what happened in that motel room in Montana, the last time we -_hide to let this pass-." _

Paul sighed frustrated and talked upset:

-"Well Burrows, then maybe this time you could be careful enough to not let someone catch your gun from your back to blow up his brains."

-"Fuck off Kellerman!"

Kellerman smiled softly without a trace of humor and spoke again in a cold and condescending tone, as if he was trying to explain something really difficult to a child:

-"We have activated all the alarms tonight Burrows.

Our fingerprints are all over that room…"

Paul pointed to Michael and Sara direction and spoke again in a less ruthlessly tone, but still arrogant and annoyed:

-"…And their DNA is spread by all the sheets, and God knows where more.

Surely The Company already know that we have been in that motel and are searching us right now!

And they are going to catch us if we don't hide; soon. "

Lincoln was about to answerer him when Michael spoke from the back seat, he didn't even look away from the car window to look at them, and his voice sounded distant and cold, as if he was just speaking out loud:

-"The bastard is right Linc… We have to hide and let all that pass."

Kellerman smiled fun in the copilot-seat when he heard his new nickname and looked at Michael, his eyes sparkled in that half dark car and he asked in a really convinced tone:

-"And surely Scofield, a first class nerd like you knows where… isn't it?"

Michael moved his look from the darkness outside for the first time and looked at Paul, considering all the possibilities before to answer him in a pissed off and cold tone:

-"Yes… I know a safe place."

The car kept in silence for a very few seconds, until Lincoln asked unsure from the driver seat:

-"You want me to drive there Mike?"

-"Yes… It is like four of five hours from here.

I'll indicate you."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Michael heard the cold rain falling outside the big and warm cabin and he intuited the dawn, ending up forever with that damn and endless night, slipping in weakly through the closed blinds.

Michael felt his injured and burning wrist between Sara's soft hands.

The peroxide slid painfully over his skin and he could saw Sara looking at him a bit concerned when he sighed in pain; but just a moment after he smiled weakly at her upon that comfortable bed but she didn't looked at him, and suddenly, if it hadn't been by the rain falling outside and the fireplace lighted up in the wall in front of them, Michael could have sworn that they were in that hot and dark motel room in El Gila again, with both seated upon that bed and with Michael breathing his regrets and her disenchantment like a warm poison.

"_-One more day__ Sara… That is all I'm asking."_

Actually, he was asking for much more then; But now, after everything that had happened to her he didn't have right to ask anything.

Or at least, that was what Michael had been painfully thinking in silence during the last five hours.

In his poisonous and hot guilt, in the more and more distant Panama, in the future…In her dry blood upon her lower lip.

Sara dried his wrist slowly and started to bandage it in silence and professionally until she finally spoke in a far tone:

-"I don't think that you are going to need stitches after all… But it is an ugly wound."

She looked at him but Michael didn't answer, just looked at her with his greenish eyes sparkling under the orange fire light.

Sara sighed frustrated, picked up the cotton balls and the peroxide white bottle from the duvet, and rose slowly from the bed.

She pushed a chunk of hair beck behind her hear in a reflex and tired gesture and went away slowly and in silence from the bed, but then Michael held her hand softly in the very last moment and whispered her name:

-"…Sara…"

-"So… Are you talking to me finally?

It only took you five hours."

Michael looked at her a bit surprised by her hurt tone of voice, but Sara wasn't looking at him, she had her look lost somewhere in the floor; Michael sighed softly and tried in vain that his apology didn't sound too worn-out when he whispered:

-"I'm sorry."

Then Sara raised her gaze to look at him for the first time, and Michael could saw her eyes wets and trembling with the gilthead light of the fireplace.

-"You don't have to be… I understand it perfectly Michael, you were too busy driving us until your hidden and fucking perfect just-in-case weekend cabin to talk to me."

Sara release from his hand and gave a few steps in the bathroom direction, going away fast from the bed and from him. Michael looked at her walking away, still sited in the edge of the bed with his wrist burning him.

But then Sara stopped halfway for a second and turned to look at him; Michael saw perfectly her tears, shining under the warm fire light and rolling by her face, she covered her eyes with her free hand and sobbed in silence.

Michael got up from bed, walked a few fast steps to Sara and crushed his lips against hers in a consuming and needy kiss.

He slid his tongue between her warm and lips, kissing her intensely, feeling the salty taste of her warm tears mixing with the dry blood over them; he closed his eyes and hugged her as tight as he could, without knowing very well who was he really trying to comfort.

Michael broke away from the kiss and stepped a few inches back from her lips, he slowly brushed her hair away from her face, whispering desperate against her mouth in a scared and guilty tone that she hadn't heard him before:

-"Im sorry…

I'm so sorry Sara."

She stepped back from Michael's mouth, sighed quietly and looked to the floor, still feeling the hot tears rolling by her cheeks and his warm and guilty grip around her.

-"I know Michael… You always are."

Sara released completely from Michael's arms and walked depressed to the bathroom closing the door behind her, leaving Michael alone, sorrowful and still feeling her taste in his tongue in that room illuminated only by the orangey fire.

She heard the bathroom door closing behind her, left the cotton balls and the peroxide in the first-aid kit again and turned on the water in the bathtub; Sara hadn't taken a bath since… well, leaving aside that bathtub issue with Paul the last time that she had get on into a hot bath Michael was still definitely in Fox River and she didn't know how her name sounded when he moaned it between kisses.

Sara heard water noise outside the house too.

Will be raining in Chicago too?

…Or in Panama?

She nodded in silence and while the restroom was filling up with hot vapor, Sara took off slowly her dirty sweater and threw it to the floor.

She looked herself in the mirror and saw someone very similar to her, with her black bra, her jeans, her tired and pale face, the dark circles under her eyes, her hair uncombed, and the dry blood in her lower lip…

-"Sara, Do you need something?"

She heard Michael's low and familiar voice at the other side of the closed door and looked sorrowful to the floor; but Sara didn't see him, leant against the wood and facing the door with eyes closed, like that evening, when he had called her, leant in that dark wall and crying gutty at the other side of the phone, fighting against the urge to turnaround for her.

"-No.

I'm fine."

But Sara knew him good enough to know that he wasn't going to give up that easily, at least not now that seemed finally to had left back that stage of silent and guilt that had scared her.

His voice sounded pleading and faltering at the other side of the door:

"-I can fix this Sara… I can take the three of us to Panama, I know I can.

But I need you."

She soaked up her tears and touched slowly the closed door with the palm of her hand.

-"…I need you too."

Sara closed her eyes slowly, feeling a new fit of crying shakes when she continued:

"-But you have brushed me off, you have ignored me as if I had done something wrong… …I just wanted to save you Michael."

Sara's voice broke with her last words and for a few seconds she only heard the rain and the hot water running.

But when Michael spoke again, still eyes closed and facing the closed door, his voice sounded more desperate and helpless, as if he was crying in silence against that door or about to do it:

"-I know… But you can ask me to continue as if nothing knowing what would have happened to you Sara.

What you would have done to save me."

-"Why not Michael?

I'm fine, they didn't hurt me."

He soaked quietly against the door and thought again in her dry blood in her lip, or in that man, holding Sara face down upon that night table and passing his hand through her hair, while he was just a few meters from her and was unable to help her, unable to shoot that son of a bitch and to hug her… Unable to stop hearing Sara saying _"-I can do everything you want… But you'll have to let them go."_

"…_You'll have to let them go_."

Surely he would never forget that words in his whole live.

Michael spoke again, softly and broken:

-"I can't live with that Sara… There have to be an inflection point in all that, even for me.

Even for us."

And then Sara felt the tide rising really fast for the first time since that lonely and painful night in what she shot herself that poison again, cursing his name and that kiss he stole her.

Her words sounded wet and Sara burst in tears and spoke flattering and infinitely scared of her own question:

-"What does that mean Michael…Are you leaving me too?

…Is that?"

But Sara didn't hear anything at the other side of the door.

She moved away from the closed door and walked slowly backwards in that bathroom full of vapor; until she only felt the cold wall tile at her bare back.

To be continued…

You may now commence throwing tomatoes, don't be shy about leaving death threats, criticism, insults, comments…


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